where we land
by ohwhatsherface
Summary: Rivetra Anthology. 11. Petra loves to gossip.
1. decoy

**Pairing:** Levi/Petra  
**Warning(s):** Petra survives AU because I will never ever accept the death of Levi's squad; being vague about how she survived...; also, this takes place before/during Chapter 53 so maybe spoilers?  
**Note: **Please bear with me if this is awful – I'm totally new to this fandom. Enjoy!**  
Summary: **You weren't actually serious about using Armin as the decoy, were you?  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own _SnK_.

* * *

He supposes she's kind of blonde, if you're really looking. He's always thought of her hair as something along the lines of copper at most times, auburn when damp, and strawberry blond at the absolute brightest. But now under better lighting and now that he's spent a good half hour leaning against the bathroom door watching her run her fingers through her hair by the sink, he can relent and think that fine, maybe she should be the one playing Historia's decoy.

She rolls her eyes at his staring. "I know you're worried, Captain," she says in a tone that she probably thinks is soothing. It makes things worse for her to call him by his title when she's completely ignoring his commands. "But I'm more than capable of hand-to-hand combat. And it would be silly to send _Armin_." She pauses, frowning at him. "Were you actually serious about that?"

His flat stare tell her that yes, yes of course he was.

Petra only laughs. "Levi, that's ridiculous." Or she's ridiculous. She, the one with the disgusting-looking white goop coating her hair which he can smell from across the bathroom. "Why would you want to use him when _I'm_ available?"

He can see her logic. She's slim, she's short, she's in the process of washing out the bleach in hair meant to make it a little closer to Historia's shade of blonde, and, unlike Armin, she's actually female.

But he can't help but be annoyed by the way she blatantly went against his orders in front of his newly formed squad. It wasn't rude or disrespectful per se, but Petra has never spoken against him before. She's made suggestions, yes, and usually with a lot of aggressive, desperate shouting, but she's never actually _acted_ without his consent. She's quick to tell him when they really, really should be switching to their 3D Manoeuvering Gear, or when contrary to what his eyes are telling him, the room Sasha and Jean were supposed to take care of actually _is_ clean, or when he _has_ to be joking because apparently _she_ should be the one to play Historia's double.

Why would he use Armin when he could use Petra?

Simple. Because he doesn't fucking want to use Petra.

Of course she was his first choice. She really _is_ the most sensible choice. She's the most similar to Historia in terms of appearances, save for the slightly darker hair which she's already taking care of. But the idea of handing Petra over to some unknown group of assholes who want god knows what from the real Historia makes him uneasy in a way that was completely different from telling her and the rest of his squad to head west and protect Eren from any titans.

Titans just ate people. Men were capable of so much more than that.

There's no knowing what they might do to her while they think she's the one they're looking for, and he can't imagine them reacting all too kindly if they ever find out she's a fake.

"Do you doubt my judgement now, Petra?" he wonders.

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't roll his eyes, doesn't scoff. "Do I really need to explain?" He sounds more weary than sarcastic, afraid that she'll tell him frankly that no fucking shit does she doubt his judgement, that she thinks he sent Erd and Gunther and Auruo off to their deaths, that she hates him for arriving soon enough to get her battered body away from the two fighting titans but too late to help everyone else.

Petra turns away from him and begins to towel dry her hair.

"I don't," she says. "I don't doubt you. Not _you_." He catches a glimpse of her and sees her face contort. She looks pained and broken and he wants to hold her or placate her somehow but he can't so he stays still. "I don't doubt you," she repeats softly, "but I can't let anything happen to anyone else."

He opens his mouth and closes it. He does it again and again trying to find the right words because there's no cure for survivor's guilt. "You did nothing wrong," he tells her, feeling his frustration grow. "Don't be stupid. You couldn't have taken down the Female Titan – _no one_ could take down the Female Titan. We still technically haven't since that bitch is living it up in her stupid piece of shit crystal. You did nothing wrong by surviving, Petra."

"I'm alive while they're all dead."

"So am I."

"You weren't there."

He stiffens at the unintentional jab. "So was Eren."

"Maybe," she mumbles. "Not really. You don't get it. I shouldn't have let her sneak up on us. I should've known she was planning something when we blinded on her. I shouldn't have lost my focus." He can see each of their deceased friends with each frustrated sentence. "I don't doubt you," she assures him with a terse smile.

She doubts herself.

She doubts herself, Levi realizes, and she needs this, partly because it's the most logical option for their operation, but mostly because she needs to prove to herself that she's capable of protecting her comrades.

Levi sighs and she sighs, putting down the towel. Her hair is still a bit damp, but he can see how much lighter it's gotten. He doesn't realize he's holding a lock of it until he sees her staring at him curiously. He drops the hair like it's burned him and crosses his arms. He looks her up and down, focusing in particular on her freshly bleached hair and scowling at the smell of it.

"Don't provoke them."

She turns to face the mirror, but he still keeps his eyes on hers.

"Whatever band of merry fucking idiots grab you and Jean, just act like some scared little girl," he orders sternly. "Don't tell them they're morons even though that's what they are. Don't try to run away. Don't try to fight them." He grimaces as she arranges her bangs so that she'll look more like Historia. "Just play the victim until I get to you. Just be caref—just don't do anything stupid. Okay?"

She turns around and smiles at him and he's so fucking glad that he managed to get to her on time but so fucking scared that he's putting her in danger again, essentially handing her over to their enemies that they know next to nothing about.

"I'll be careful," she murmurs, taking his hand in hers. He grips her tightly and she squeezes back. "I promise."

She leans forward, her forehead pressed against his.

He closes his eyes and breathes.


	2. drunk i

**Summary:** The sky's awake, so Petra's awake. She's also a little bit drunk.

* * *

Naturally, this is Hanji's fault. Something about a ladies night and cheap drinks and ___come on Petra you _have___to_ ___come with me come on come on come on_. Then, some hours later, there was a knock on his door and there was Hanji again, a nervous grin on her face while she explained that Petra ___may_ have gotten incredibly wasted so Hanji ___may_ have goaded her into doing something crazy and/or slightly illegal so Petra ___may_ have been taken into custody but the police involved ___may_ have been really nice when they realized Petra was actually a pretty charming drunk so they ___may_ have said they'd release her as long as her superior came to pick her up.

Fucking Hanji.

He takes Petra back to his room because he doesn't want to venture into the female dorms and honestly, the idea of her being around Hanji again while intoxicated makes him anxious.

She can sleep on his floor for all he cares. It's better than being in some alley or ditch or ___jail cell_, so really, he's already done his part. He repeats this to himself as he eyes her curled up form near the foot of his bed. He didn't make her do that. He just brought her back to his room, stepped into the bathroom for a moment to change and came back to see her on the floor.

"You look like a dog."

She cracks an eye open and grins up at him. "What kind of dog?"

"A needy one that I had to pick up from the pound."

He shakes his head and goes back to bed. She'll be fine. They're silent for a good ten minutes until—

"Heichou?"

"Go to sleep, Petra."

"I can't."

"Go the fuck to sleep."

"I ___can't_. The ___sky's_ awake, so ___I'm_ awake."

"What? ___What_?"

"Levi, I'm cold."

He grunts. "Tough shit."

"But Levi!" she says, drawing out his name with a lengthy whine.

"___What_?"

"Can I sleep in the bed with you?"

He snorts. "No."

"What?" She actually sounds offended. "Why the hell not?"

Levi sighs heavily. "Because you're fucking filthy, Petra. You've been on that floor for the past fifteen minutes, you walked into practically every wall we passed by on our way back from the ___jail_ you were in, and frankly you kind of smell." He's pretty sure it's from that drink on her shirt that made it more so onto her clothes than into her mouth. He clarifies, lest he offends her, "Or well, your shirt smells."

"I'm not ___really _dirty! I mean this is ___your_ room so it has to be clean, right? I'm pretty sure I can lick the floor and all I'd taste is disinfectant."

"…"

"…"

"You licked the floor didn't you?"

"…of course not!"

With a noise of exasperation, Levi kicks the blanket off the bed, assuming it landed on her judging by the "oomph!" he hears. Personally, he can bear with the slight chill of night. He usually gets really warm over the course of the night and ends up waking up with his blanket shoved down by the foot of his bed anyway. He hears a rustle of fabric and figures she's trying to somehow swaddle herself so she can fall asleep. He assumes he's in the clear and tries to get ___some_sleep but opens his eyes when he feels someone staring at him.

Naturally, it's Petra.

"What ___now_?" he asks. She looks ridiculous with the way her chin rests on the edge of the mattress. She's either kneeling or sitting. Either way she's shamelessly interrupting his rest again.

Petra pouts. "Won't you get cold?"

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? We can share."

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders why he's tolerating this crap. Had this been Erd or Gunther or Auruo, he would have let them rot in jail over night to teach them a lesson. Yet here he is with Petra at the foot of his bed, his blanket wrapped around her while she babbled the night away with wine on her breath.

"I'll be fine," he repeats. He flips onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillow, hoping that maybe if she's out of sight, she'll also be out of mind. This seems to work because she's gone silent and it's almost like she's not even there. He hears her moving around with the blanket again, but chooses against telling her to stop in case she takes that as an invitation to chat.

Then the bed dips.

The soldier in Levi is quick to turn around at the slight movement. "What the ever loving ___fuck_, Pet—" His mouth goes dry and he squeezes his eyes shut, more irritated than embarrassed. "Dammit, Petra, ___where the hell are your clothes_?"

But Petra isn't fazed by his angry voice, opting to plop down beside him clad in her underwear. "You said I was dirty because of them. Now I'm not dirty." She shrugs. "Besides, you've seen me naked before."

"That was ___once_ and that was an ___accident_."

"Whatever."

She arranges the blanket to cover the both of them and Levi stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out where exactly he went wrong over the past few hours. It was probably when Petra looked at him like she was asking for his permission after Hanji asked her to come along and, like an idiot, he told her to do whatever she wanted. He doesn't even flinch when she presses against his side.

"Oh, my god, you're so hot," she moans.

For a moment he's worried she's about to attempt some embarrassing drunken seduction.

Then she adds, "You're like a huggable fire."

Levi brings a palm to his face and sighs for what he hopes is the last time that night. "Petra." A lecture about self-control and propriety and staying away from Hanji rests at the tip of his tongue.

"Yes?" Her words are becoming slurred, which he takes as a sign that she's ready to actually sleep.

"You are so fucking annoying."

But she just giggles and presses her cheek against his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Levi."


	3. daddy's girl

******Summary:** She's her daddy's little girl and she makes sure to always play the part.  
**Characters/Pairings:** Petra-centric with a dash of Levi; mild Rivetra

* * *

When Petra visits her father, she's always careful to look like anything but a soldier.

She'll wear a pretty little dress and hide every sign that she's just gotten home from an expedition. She'll brush her hair and do something nice with it. She'll paint her lips a light shade of pink and she'll pinch her cheeks ever so slightly to force a flush. She'll smile and hug him and she'll giggle at each of his silly little jokes. She'll act like a child even though she's actually a twenty-two-year-old woman, not some simpering little girl.

It's for the best, really.

Petra would rather pretend to be someone she's not than listen to her dad beg her not to leave for the umpteenth time. He'll tell her about how this friend has a son around her age—single, wants to be a doctor, looking for a nice girl. He'll mention the seamstress down the street who's looking for an apprentice—a nice young lady, hardworking and helpful, a quick learner. He'll bring up every possible argument he can think of to keep her from leaving again, eyeing the wings on her jacket with trepidation, but Petra's come to learn that if she can distract him with the image of the girl he wants her to be rather than the one that she actually is, he actually, finally, shuts the fuck up.

This time around, she's been unable to see him for months and when her hair brushes just past her shoulders, she chooses not to cut it. Let it grow, she decides. She'll look more like his little girl that way.

She'll look less like ___Petra_.

So she leaves it and it bothers her and she pulls it into a low ponytail that falls limply over her shoulder. She looks more tired than usual, but that's nothing a little makeup and a brighter than normal smile can't fix. She settles on a plain beige skirt and a plain pink blouse and dons a plain cream cardigan. She nods to herself, once, twice, and decides that yes, every cut and bruise and scar that decorates her body has been carefully concealed.

"I don't get why you do that," Levi says, eyeing her eye herself.

But Levi doesn't get a lot of things, Petra considers. Levi doesn't get that just because something doesn't gleam doesn't mean it isn't clean. Levi doesn't get that sometimes the new recruits just need gentle—___gentle_—guidance. And Levi certainly doesn't get that sometimes people want more than kisses in corridors and two in the morning trysts.

"What do I do?"

"Play dress up."

"You don't like my outfit?"

"I hate your outfit."

"And what would you have me wear instead?" She comes to sit at the edge of the bed so he props himself up on his elbows. "The uniform I can never really get the blood and dirt stains out of?" He says nothing and she smiles. "Or," she purrs, "I suppose you'd like me best in nothing at all."

But for all things he doesn't get, Levi does actually get her moods. He understands that when she's happy, she's quiet and all smiles. When she's sad, she babbles in some pathetic attempt at a cover up. And when she's mad, she's a discomforting combination of flirtatious and snide, using her words like weapons.

"You're angry."

"Nonsense."

"You are."

She laughs breathlessly. One hand rests on the bed as she puts her weight on it. "At who? About what?"

"Me?" he suggests, knowing that that's not true. "Yourself? No." He sits up, the white sheet pooling in his lap. "That's not it. It's your dad, right?"

Petra stiffens. "Now why—"

"You're the only person who knows ___why_, Petra."

Her jaw clenches and it's actually starting to hurt a little since she's been doing that a lot since she set up a date to go visit her father.

She loves him. He's the man who rocked her swaddled form when she fussed, who cleaned her scraped knees as a toddler, who snuck her small treats when her mother wasn't looking, who learned how to braid hair because her mother was gone and no one else could do it for her. He read her stories and wiped her tears and beamed at all of her accomplishments up until she told him she ranked third in the 99th graduating class. She loves him so much because he's all the family she has left and he loves her for the same reason, but she can't stand the way his eyes always plead with her whenever she stays under his roof.

She's a soldier. She fights partly for humanity, but mostly for the wind that tangles her hair, the rush of swinging from building to building, tree to tree, the triumph of bringing down another titan, the speed of her horse, the relief of protecting a comrade, the pride of serving in the Special Ops Squad. Petra fights because the thought of being some cranky old spinster's apprentice or some sweet young man's pretty little wife makes her nauseous.

All she wants to do is fly, but her dad doesn't get that.

Please don't go—

You might ___die_—

You're the only girl on this team—

I don't know how I feel about—

Actually I know this nice boy—

___Titans_, Petra—

My sweet little girl—

Petra releases a quiet breath and stands. She looks at Levi. "I don't know what you're talking about," she tells him finally. She glances at his clothes on the chair, neatly folded and neatly stacked. "Anyway, you should go."

He raises an eyebrow at her curiously but she ignores the gesture.

She continues staring at him, unmoving, so he relents and begins to dress. She feels mildly unnerved by the way he watches her the entire time.

"You don't—" Levi stops himself. He sighs and steps outside when he's finally fully clothed. "You should never feel obligated to live up to another person's image of you. That's their problem, not yours."

Of course, she supposes, Levi's an expert on that, being Humanity's Strongest and all. But she repeats herself, "I don't know—"

"What I'm talking about. Of course you don't."

"I don't."

And then Petra closes the door in his face. She goes to her trunk and rummages through it until she finds a small tube of pink lipstick, a relic of her mother's. She swipes it across her lips, smiles primly, and then grabs her coat.

It's time to see her father.


	4. drunk ii

When Petra wakes up, the first thing she notices is that she's incredibly warm.

It's been rather chilly lately, and she swears that there's a draft in the dorms, but the others always tell that her she's crazy and to just layer up. So, naturally she's grateful for her cuddly furnace. That is, of course, until said cuddly furnace grunts and shifts and releases a few expletives Petra knows her captain favours. She should probably feel a lot more embarrassed or shocked about waking up next to Levi, but Petra is, ultimately, a woman of logic and knows that there are more important things that need to be dealt with.

More specially, reasons at to why the hell everything hurts.

She had been drinking last night. That much explains the pounding headache and the churning in her stomach, but that ___doesn't_ explain why the rest of her body aches. Her back is stiff, her shoulders are sore, and she's pretty sure her entire body is battered and bruised.

And suddenly Petra would rather deal with a horde of a dozen titans than deal with all of this pain.

"I think I'm dying," she tells her cuddly furnace, well aware that it's just Levi.

"Good."

"No, seriously. I think I'm going to die. Just wait for it." She nods, her messy hair moving around on the pillow. "Yes. I am now dead."

"Wonderful."

She cracks an eye open to glare at him. He rests on his side like her, facing her directly and scowling. "One day," she says, "I will actually die. I will die valiantly in battle protecting a comrade or a maybe even a captain. Or I will fall off my horse and snap my neck. Or I will slip in the shower and… and just die." She ignores the way Levi grimaces at each hypothetical situation. "I will actually die one day and you will feel very bad for celebrating my current death."

Levi just sighs. "You're not dead."

"But I will be."

"Stop being stupid."

"You don't understand. Everything in me hurts."

"That's just the shame working its way through your body."

"Fuck off."

"It'll go away after you apologize for being a little shit and interrupting my night."

She frowns because to be fair, she doesn't remember much of the night beyond Hanji handing her another drink and saying something along the lines of ___I have the greatest idea ever—it's slightly illegal but it's totally badass_.

"Was I ___that_ bad?" she asks, actually a bit worried.

He sighs and falls onto his back. "No. Yes." He shrugs. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Feeling guilty, she moves closer, resting her head on his chest. "I'll make it up to you," she mumbles against his skin.

He snorts. "You better." Then he moves, sitting up and bringing her with him despite her protests. He smirks down at her, his thumb resting under her chin to keep her focused. "Now what did you learn?" he asks, using the most patronizing voice he can muster.

She scowls at him. "That you're a little bitc—"

"___What did you learn_?"

"That getting drunk is stupid," she mumbles petulantly, "and drinking with Hanji is even stupider."

He pats her on the head and she kicks him under the blanket.


	5. modern au

******Summary:** modern-AU in which Levi is a disgruntled TA and Petra is a temp in the building he works at.

* * *

In retrospect, Levi can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he met her.

He finds traces of her in his memories, starting with a lab in the first semester of first year (she's insistent that this actually happened), and ending with the more recent sight of her body draped languidly across his duvet. In between he sees the tips of chewed pen caps, boldly coloured tights, and nearly completed crossword puzzles. He smells French Vanilla and hears the drizzle of it echoing off the walls of the staff room. He hears typing and clicking and the annoying ring of the phone and then he hears her voice asking—

"Can I help you?"

Levi eyes the stapler on the front counter of the admissions office. It's really meant for students to use when they've just printed off their work five minutes before class and need to staple it in the next four, not TAs who were a bit behind on things. He supposes he should feel a bit more ashamed about being as unprepared as he is for the tutorial ___he_ is supposed to be leading. It wasn't his fault, really. Why would the department's photocopier have a stapling option if the machine didn't actually successful staple things together?

In the end, he finds that he doesn't really care, but it's the start of a new year and according to Hanji, the money in the Asshole Jar is going towards her new laptop this time around. When they counted it back in December, Erwin used a good chunk of it to get some ridiculous bolo tie that he genuinely thinks makes him look good, while Mike used his share for god knows what.

So mostly out of spite, Levi tries to be nice.

He looks at the person behind the desk. "Just using the stapler," he says, pointing to it and waiting for her approval as per social cues.

"Oh." She grins at him so widely that he's a little unnerved. "Yes, of course. Go ahead."

Levi nods. "Thanks," he mumbles, holding back a wince. Personally, he hates mumbling and he hates hearing other people do it even more. Levi's the sort of person that believes in enunciation, whether that be for a "fine" or a "fuck you."

She spares him the small talk, opting to smile, nod, and then resume her work.

He staples all of his handouts, mentally cursing the shitty stapling function of the department photocopier and then considering whether or not being an asshole in his mind requires him to put money in the jar. Then he realizes he's an idiot for even thinking about that – it's not like Hanji can read his mind (right?) – and begins to focus on even more unnecessary things like how many of those little shits are going to skip tutorial and email him about feigned sickness. Or what stupid and/or potentially harmful concoction Hanji is brewing back at the house. Or whether or not he's obligated to say thank you a second time since the first thank you was for permission to use the stapler but the second thank you would be for actually using the stapler.

Levi sighs and wills himself to stop thinking.

"Thank you," he repeats because whether or not the thank you is necessary, he's trying to start this niceness habit to avoid having to add to the Asshole Jar.

She looks up from whatever she's doing on her computer to grin at him again. "Not a problem."

And then because he's an idiot or because he's awkward, Levi stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of her while pretending to be arranging his handouts. Her short copper hair falls just past her chin and she wears plain neutral colours. She looks like she's trying to blend in the walls yet Levi can't help noticing the way she pops out to him.

Honestly, it's her mouth. It's the way her lips jut out when she's reading something on the screen – most likely an inquiry from a student – followed up them opening up ever slightly, most likely to mumble something along the lines of a "what the actual fuck?" Then she purses them, quirks them to one side in some acceptance of the stupidity of student kind, and then grins grimly.

"Was there anything else you needed?"

He almost jumps. Her head is cocked as she looks at him expectantly.

"No," Levi replies. He nods to her but mostly to convince himself that no, he does not need something—not her name and certainly not her number. "Thank you," he says on more time before turning on his heal and exiting the office.


	6. dress

******Summary: **(pre-57th expedition) Levi already knew that Petra planned to devote herself to him because he planned to devote himself to her too.

* * *

Levi doesn't know much about weddings.

He understands that they're joyful events where two people promise to spend the rest of lives together, seal the deal with a kiss, and then celebrate by sharing food and alcohol with their family and friends. He knows that the man wears a suit and the woman wears a white dress. He gets that people cherish weddings, that little girls dream of them, mothers sob happily over them, and fathers sort of dread them. He knows that the groom used to be expected to ask the bride's father for permission to propose, but that that tradition has died down. He understands that you need something borrowed, blue, old, and new, that there should be fun and dancing and slight inebriation, that the bride throws the bouquet into a horde of single women, and that it's considered bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony.

Still, he can't help himself from peeking through the small crack between the door and the frame because he sees a swish of white and hears a giggle coming from Petra's room.

He smirks and opens the door slowly, doing so loudly enough that she can definitely tell he's coming in.

And just like that, she shrieks. "Levi!" She makes a poor attempt at covering herself with the green cloak she wears every day. "You can't look at me!"

He rolls his eyes. "And why the fuck not?"

"Because it's bad luck!"

"Tch." Levi tugs the cloak away from her and tosses it on her chair. "That's stupid."

"Oh, Levi." Her shoulders fall and she just shakes her head at his attitude. Eventually she smiles and does a small twirl. "Well, do I at least look nice?"

He eyes her white dress with its tight bodice and the full skirt that drops to the floor. The sleeves are made to fall off her shoulders, lacy and luxurious and a little bit pointless beyond being used for looking pretty. Her hair is messy from a day of running formations with Auruo and Gunther and Erd outside, and there's a smudge of what looks like soot on the side of her face, but fucking hell, Levi thinks, she looks beautiful.

"Yes," he says simply.

He reaches out tentatively, almost afraid that if he touches the fragile lace he might ruin it somehow. She seem to notice his reluctance because she meets him halfway instead, guiding his hands to her waist and leaning forward to kiss him. For a moment, Levi relaxes and tells himself that this is something he can get used to – that this a woman he can get used to.

"Your dad is really okay with this?" he asks. Petra tenses slightly, but Levi still needs to make sure. Hardened bastard that he may be, he still wants her father's blessing.

But Petra pulls away to grin at him. "Of course," she says, now looking at his cravat and straightening it. "Of course he is."

"And we're meeting him in Karanese still?" He glares at her when she rolls her eyes the way she usually does when he triple checks the details of their small, secret wedding. They're literally only inviting her father, but he can't help his need to check and recheck everything.

"Yes, Levi," she responds exasperatedly. She sighs and kisses him on the cheek once more. "Right after we return from the 57th expedition."


	7. civvies

******Summary:** She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment and considers that yes, she would very much like to lick him.

* * *

One day Petra sees Levi out of uniform and she wants to die.

Are you kidding me? she thinks, very much enjoying how snugly the off white shirt fits his body over breakfast. He was supposed to have laced up the top of it but in a uncharacteristic stroke of laziness, he didn't, letting the top fall open and expose the usually covered up expanse of his neck and collarbone.

Petra puts all her energy into staring intently at the table, but every so often she has to look up when someone is speaking to her. She'll just nod or grunt or shake her head, because really, ___really_, how the hell can she pay attention to pointless conversation when Levi is sitting there like that.

She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment and considers that yes, she would very much like to lick him.

___Fuck_.

Stop that! she tells herself.

Petra sighs and lifts her cup of tea, purposely covering her mouth. She goes through an awkward cycle of smirking and grimacing and cringing and holding back little schoolgirl giggles.

Eventually Auruo frowns at her. "Hey, Petra," he says, actually sounding mildly concerned. "Are you okay? You're getting really red and you've been making faces all morning."

She wants to pummel him despite the sentiments.

"I'm fine," she bites out. They all look at her, Levi and tight shirt included, and she looks at her cup intently. "I'm ___fine_."

Auruo shrugs. "Just checking."

They resume whatever conversation they were having while Petra resumes ___not_thinking about all the things she'd do too her captain on this fairly sturdy table if they were alone. She's about to give her mental approval for idea number fourteen when she looks up and sees Levi staring at her and smirking ever so slightly. He puts down his cup of coffee and leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, still holding her gaze.

And then Petra bows her head and sighs to herself because fucking hell, she's going to ___die_.


	8. airport

******Summary:** There's an ice storm outside and a crazy girl beside him, yet somehow this birthday isn't so bad.

* * *

They meet an hour before his birthday.

It's Christmas Eve and it's almost his birthday and he's slouched slightly on a poorly cushioned seat with his legs propped up on his carry-on suitcase. He should be more upset, he supposes, about not being able to get back home for the holidays, but for whatever reason, the only thing his mind can focus on is how fucking stupid Flappy Bird is and for the love all things fucking holy, he didn't intend for the Bird to flap that high and just fucking hell.

Right.

He's probably making faces or swearing audibly or just grunting like some weirdo, but it all ends with him looking up to see her grinning at him shyly from the row of seats across from him.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

She flushes slightly. "Um. Hi." She sits up straight, her knees pulled together and her hands resting on them. "So this is a bit of a weird question but see I'm sort of an idiot and put my phone charger in my check-in luggage and now my phone is at 33% battery and well I noticed you have an S3 also and uh, by any chance do you have a charger I can borrow?"

He probably makes a questionably rude face because suddenly she cringes.

"I mean, only if you don't mind. See, I left mine in my check-in on purpose in some stupid attempt to make myself read a book or something, rather than play games on my phone." She looks sullenly at the copy of ___Les Mis_ sitting on top of her purse. "But I completely understand if you say no. I mean I could totally just buy a new charger at one of those stores in the airport, except they sort of jack the prices up ridiculously high."

And then suddenly she stands, grabbing her purse in one hand and holding the handle of her luggage in the other.

"Actually, you know what? Ignore me. I'm just going to just buy a new one."

But he's already reaching into his messenger bag. "Don't be stupid," he says, holding the tangled charger out to her.

She looks at it and then at him before hesitantly taking it. He rolls his eyes at this. She's the one that asked for it so why did she look so reluctant to take it?

"Thanks," she says. She sits back down and drops her things none too gracefully. "I'm Petra."

"Levi."

"Where are you going?"

He snorts and glances outside. "Nowhere at this point."

She laughs. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Outside the city is dark but they both know that everything is covered in ice. There are broken trees and downed powerlines and the airport is reluctant to let any flights leave, Christmas be damned. She finally plugs in her phone with one of the outlets in the ground and then she sighs. "It's such a shame. I was supposed to see my dad tonight." She shrugs. "Well hopefully he's with the rest of the family… What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"Not really."

"Oh, what do you celebrate?"

He shrugs. "My birthday, I guess."

Her jaw drops open. "What?" She takes a glance at her watch and then looks back at him with wide eyes. "Are you trying to tell me that your birthday is on Christmas Day and thus in a grand total of forty-seven minutes and you're stuck spending it in an airport?"

"I guess?"

She stands immediately. "I will not sit by and let your birthday be another terrible airport experience. Watch my stuff!" she orders, grabbing her purse but leaving her luggage and coat.

Levi frowns at her. "Really? You're actually going to leave your things with a complete stranger?"

"Like I have anything of value," she says with a laugh. "I assure you I'm leaving you with nothing more than clothes, toiletries, and untouched copy of ___Les Mis_. If you try robbing me, the joke's on you."

"And your phone?"

She laughs even louder. "Oh, please. Have you looked at it? No one would want that." He glances at the cracked screen and winces. "Now you just sit here," she orders. "Seriously."

"You're crazy," he tells her as she walks away, but she only waves a hand and goes on her way.

He sits there with his stuff and hers and feels deeply uncomfortable being responsible for this complete stranger's possessions. Levi sighs. Of course this would be how he would spend Christmas Eve – stuck in an airport with a ton of other grumpy fliers, unable to leave because of the stupid ice storm, and now watching the belongings of some weird girl that needed to use his phone charger and who was now trying to throw him a makeshift birthday party. He's not too sure where he went wrong in their conversation. He kept his answers clipped and minimal, but somehow she managed to keep the dialogue going.

Levi sits there for a total of twenty-four minutes, contemplating whether or not he should sit at another gate when she comes back because this girl might be crazy, but then she returns and greets him loudly.

He eyes her empty hands and she shrugs.

"I was rushing and it occurred to me in the gift shop that, um, I know absolutely nothing about you and nothing frustrates me more than gifts that had no thought put into them so I decided not to bother." She sits down beside him and sighs. "But!" She reaches into her bag and takes out a plastic container with a slice of what looks like red velvet cake in it. "I did stop at the coffee shop for some cake!" She takes out two forks and holds one out to him. "It's red velvet," she confirms. "Um, part of that knowing absolutely nothing about you thing includes not knowing your cake preferences – assuming you like cake, that is – but I'm a huge fan of red velvet and decided I'd force it on you. Sound good?"

Levi just shakes his head. "Sounds good."

"Great," she says. "Now how do you feel about sharing food?"

"I fucking hate it."

Petra laughs. "Then let's do it."

And he does, oddly enough, without any visible grimacing or pissy comments. He takes the second fork and eats the cake, taking from the top layer while she took from the bottom one. He tells her that red velvet is his mother's favourite cake so he eats it too, but his favourite cake is actually black forest. She tells him that he's disgusting and crazy and that black forest cake is "actually the worst." They talk about their families and their friends and where they're going and what they're doing and everything and anything. And then she pauses, looks at her watch, and then holds it in his face so that he can read the time.

"Happy birthday, Levi."

"Thanks."

"We should do this again," she tells him. "I mean without an ice storm."

Levi smirks. "And not in an airport."

She grins back at him. "I'd like that."

And so would he.


	9. black tea

******Summary: **Levi doesn't quite like coffee anymore.******  
Note:** This will make better sense if you follow the manga and have read Chapter 54. But if you haven't, I think this can still work as a stand alone thing. Enjoy!

* * *

There was nothing special about her coffee, but he always liked it most.

Among his subordinates, hers was always the one that always tasted the best, although there was nothing spectacular or unique about her how she prepared it. She used the same beans as everyone else, though he supposes the fact that she would grind them every morning did make a bit of a difference. Still, there was no milk or cream or sugar. No honey, no special sort of sweetener. It was always just plain black coffee in the same plain white mug, but somehow it always made his morning a bit better to have her place the cup in front of him.

He thinks that he should have asked about what she did to make her coffee so much better than everyone else's back when she was still alive because it's too late now, and now he's stuck drinking the acidic concoction Mikasa makes or the watery mess that Sasha brews.

One morning Historia prepares it and Levi hopes that maybe hers will be better than the others', but he finds himself barely holding back his grimace when the coffee slips into his mouth and god fucking dammit does he miss Petra.

He always misses Petra, to be fair. It's not like she's always on his mind. No, that would be absurd and utterly ridiculous considering the fact that there are way more important matters to be dealing with like how the hell to keep Eren and Historia hidden while, you know, overthrowing the fucking government. He misses Petra the same way that he breathes and blinks and disregards social niceties. His mind doesn't linger on her and he's not sentimental enough to let things remind him of her, but he swears that sometimes he can hear her voice or feel her hand on his and then he spares her a moment or two before resuming whatever was occupying him.

"So far," he hears Connie say, bringing him out of his thoughts, "Historia's coffee tastes the least like crap."

There's a yelp and judging by Sasha's glower, she kicked Connie under the table. "Why don't ___you_ try making it instead?"

Connie snorts. "Tch, maybe I will."

Jean jumps in to defend Mikasa's brew, prompting Eren to do the same but somehow go against Jean at the same time. Armin tries to calm them down, because for the love of all things holy, you morons are fighting over ___coffee_, and as the members of his brand new squad squabble like the children they are, Levi feels the soft touch of a hand on his arm. He thinks he hears a laugh behind him, but he doesn't dare look over his shoulder.

From then on Levi only drinks black tea.


	10. barren

**Summary:** Petra makes a confession.

* * *

"Does it bother you?"

Levi doesn't know how to answer her question, so he deflects it instead. "Should it?"

It was such an odd thing to say and at such an odd time. There's nothing special going on today, but they really need to get down to breakfast to keep up appearances. Yet there she stands, her shirt only partially buttoned and her pants still on the floor, watching him like a hawk. She doesn't look sad or mad or hurt in any way. She's just observing and it makes him uncomfortable. She continues to unnerve him with her gaze as he stares back at her while adjusting his cravat.

"No," she eventually says, "I suppose it shouldn't."

The words sound cold coming out of her mouth. Still, she doesn't look like he's hurt her feelings.

Levi clears his throat, uncomfortable with the silence. "When did you find out?" he asks.

"After the second expedition we went on after our squad was formed," she says. "Do you remember what happened?"

He winces, recalling the unsettling sound of cracking and a profuse amount of blood. But more importantly, "Petra, that was three years ago."

She shrugs. "It wasn't relevant then."

"And it's relevant now?"

There. Finally, she recoils slightly.

"I don't know," she eventually says. "I just thought…" Petra sighs and keeps her hands busy by playing with the hem of her shirt. "We've been doing this for nearly eight months now. I don't know where we're going and I know that you don't either, but I know that I care about you and that I like being with you." She doesn't blush or stammer or stumble over the course of her confession. "I just wanted to be honest with you in case at some point down the line we're still together and you want to start a family and I can't have children." She stops and grimaces, finally faltering. "I just wanted to be honest with you, Levi."

So he decides to be honest with her too.

"I don't like children," he says carefully. "All they do is eat, shit, and cry. They're necessary, I guess, but they're more trouble than they're worth." He steps towards her until he's inches away because he wants her to understand this truth. "Personally, I don't want any."

And just like that, the tension eases off of her and she smiles. Her head is bowed and he thinks he hears a sob, but he keeps his eyes trained on the top of her head out of decency. When she finally looks up, she kisses him and holds him and he thinks about how he doesn't need a family because he already has her.


	11. gossip

**Summary:** Petra likes to gossip with just about anyone - even Levi.

* * *

For the most part, on the nights when Petra's restless or talkative or simply cannot sleep, Levi will grunt in response to whatever comes out of her mouth and she'll accept his answers and carry on with her one-sided conversations. As long as his grip on her changes here and there indicating that he's lucid and he contributes an occasional combination of a noun and a verb as opposed to the usual "yes," "sure," and/or "whatever" response, Petra is satisfied.

But then there are the nights where she wants them to ___communicate_, and although Levi has never actually kicked her out of his room before, those are the nights when he genuinely contemplates it.

"So what do you think of the new recruits?" she asks him one night.

Levi should feel entirely at ease right now, with his body settled in the mattress, his lover pressed against his side, and the sweat from their previous activities cooling on his skin. His eyelids feel heavy and he really wants nothing more than to sleep but then there's Petra.

Petra who is ___talking_.

"They look like idiots," Levi says. Lucky idiots though, maybe even skilled ones considering they survived everything that happened in Trost.

"Don't be rude."

He shrugs. "You asked."

"Right." She rolls her eyes and presses her head against his shoulder. She traces patterns along his skin and he knows she's itching to say something. He wonders if he should ask but she beats him to it first. "So Jean totally has a crush on Mikasa," she begins, turning onto her stomach and propping herself up a bit so that she can look at him. "And I think Ymir and Christa are special friends. Also I swear to god Reiner stuffs his bra because how does he have bigger boobs than me."

"Really?" Levi sighs. "You want to gossip about the new kids, Petra?"

"Hey, I gossip about the old ones too," she says. "For example, once I caught Erd—"

"Don't."

"But—"

"I don't want to know."

"___But_—"

"Petra." She pouts but he just brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's like two in the morning. You can talk shit with Auruo over breakfast." He knows for a fact that the two of them like to sit at the back of the room sometimes and judge other people quietly, particularly when a fresh batch of graduates arrive, but Levi wants absolutely no part in there gossiping.

"Fine," she grumbles, plopping down beside him. "You're no fun."

"Tough shit."

He closes his eyes and hopes for a moment that maybe he'll fall asleep but he feels her gaze so he glares at her. "What now?"

"But seriously, don't you want to know what I found out about Erd—"

"___Petra_."

"Okay, okay!"


End file.
